The Dying Sort
by GaHoolianGirl100
Summary: After Grima, all should be well, or so Lon'qu thought. But where was his-?


**Siouxsie is my unit's name, and also my REAL name. Yes it is, really. (Pronounce it Susie) **

"Hhhmph," Lon'qu sheathed his blade. The heavy silver always felt a bit heavy in hands, being so used to the light steel of his Killing Edges, but he had to admit that they were powerful. He looked around, trying to distinguish familiar faces among the battle. Lucina…Gregor…Vaike…Morgan! He found his son, and began to move towards him, when he heard a distinct sob.

"Morgan? What—-"

"F-Father…M-Mother, she…"he slowly turning his head towards the swordsman, tears streaming down his face.

"Siouxsie? What—-"Before Lon'qu could inquire, he felt a sharp jerk, and the battlefield, or more accurately the back of the dragon, shudder and quake, before it dropped. He made a wild grab for Morgan, clutching the still sobbing boy to his chest as they fell.

The beast crashed near the shore of Origin Peak, allowing most to get off unscathed, though many had injuries from battle. Once safely on land, Lon'qu breathed in relief. "Thank the gods…it's over." He glanced at Morgan, who was still trembling. In situations like this, the usually cheerful boy would be smiling and hooting in joy, but here he sat, sobbing uncontrollably. "Morgan—-?"

"Mother is dead!" He shouted, clutching his chest, and falling back into the dirt. While Lucina, his betrothed, came to his side, Lon'qu dropped his blade. He didn't hear the "thump" when it the ground, nor the thump on his knees when they fell too.

'Dead? She can't be…I vowed…we vowed…' The entire reason he avoided women was the lost of his most important person. Him and his wife vowed to each other that it would be different. They broke that vow. Another woman sacrificed herself for his sake. He barely felt the tears running down his cheeks, or heard his pitiful sobbing.

But what he did hear were the loud, familiar footsteps of… "Basilio," he said coldly, eyes still trained on the ground. The man was the closest damn thing he'd ever had to a father but now, nothing like that mattered. He had failed again. But instead of being able to run away, he had to see the look in his son's eye…never hold the newborn that could have been theirs…

The muscled man leaned down, his singular eye, looking at Lon'qu sadly, with empathy. "Look, son, I know that…"

"What do you know?" He said curtly. He leaned back on his palms, eyes staring deadly into the evening sky "When I believed you to be dead she was there, to comfort me in my dark hours. Are you here to return the favor?"

Basilio breathed deeply. "In a ways, yes." But instead of embracing him them, he roughly yanked him up the collar. Lon'qu let him. He looked down and to the left, and saw Morgan, covered in sweat, mud, and blood, sobbing into Lucina's shoulders.

"Look. I know why you fear the ladies. I get why it affects you now. But you can't just mope. Not when you're going to be West Kahn some day, not when your son needs you." He pulled him into a rough hug, not out of anger, but because that was Basilio's way. He pat his hair like you would a child. "Buck up. We'll find her. Dammit, we'll all die before we believe she's really dead."

Lon'qu now felt everything acutely. The large tears rolling down his face, the arms around him, the loud sobs that were coming from his throat. "I…I don't think I could…live on after…everything that…she meant everything…to me and…"

"I know, I know." The larger man smiled sadly at him, then pushed him towards his son. "Go. He needs you now."

Lon'qu looked down and sighed. He kneeled near Morgan, and gently told Lucina to back away. Surprised that he was willing to speak with her calmly, she nodded, letting Morgan go carefully. Lon'qu wrapped the boy up in his arms. "It will be fine.

"F-Father!" Morgan said, burying his face into Lon'qu's broad chest "M-Mother…" he hiccuped.

"I know, I know…" he pat his head, much like Basilio had earlier "I miss her. I miss her so damn much. But we have to be strong. For her. We have to find her, and bring her back. I know it will be hard on you, but let us make memories to tell her when we do."

The boy looked tgearfully up at his father. "O-Okay…" Lon'qu squeezed him tightly again. "Come. Chrom is making a speech, and all are to attend."

"O-Okay..." like a child, Morgan wiped his nose on his sleeve, and grabbed his father's hand, letting the man pull him along. As Chrom spoke, Lon'qu took a deep breath and lifted his head. Everyone said a few words, some tearful, some determined, so angry, some despondent. When all eyes came towards him, instead a despairing speech, tears, or even anger, he smiled instead, as Siouxsie always suggested he do. Despite his best efforts however, after taking a last look at his son, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"_She lives. I know it. Some people just aren't the dying sort."•_


End file.
